words are such lovely things (but numbers are even better)
by Watanabe Maya
Summary: It's thirteen hours, twenty-six minutes, and two-point-eight-one-four seconds until what is undeniably the most important moment of Akashi Seijuuro's life (so far). And he's right on schedule. \\ AkaFuri. #412Domestic
_Used up some plot bunnies for the AkaFuri Domestic Event 2016; sorry for being so late everyone D: Many many thanks to Chrisanne Sakura (rexa) and xrfx (rara) from Indonesia for inviting me and of course the super duper wonderful loveable afternoon rain for being my proofreader/beta! there are no tears in this one guys this is a rarity please do feel free to enjoy the happy cavity-inducing tooth-rotting fluff from these two dorks in love :3_

~o~

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Kuroko no Basuke. All rights go to Tadatoshi Fujimaki-sensei.

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 **[13:35:59]**

He is a numbers man.

Akashi Seijuuro is a creature that thrives on calculated digits and flawless routine. Every morning, at six o'clock sharp, he'll wake up from bed and put on his wristwatch. At six-oh-nine, he'll fasten the last button of his shirt and tuck the shell of his tie beneath the crisp fabric of his collar. At six-seventeen, he'll head to the kitchen for breakfast. By six-thirty, he'll buckle his suitcase and drive himself to work.

Today, it is different… somewhat.

Akashi wakes up at six-oh-three in the morning, a little past his predetermined daily schedule, but nothing too great to cause him alarm. It doesn't surprise him, given the fact that he'd spent the night updating himself on trends in the stock market in an attempt to stave off any traces of anxiety and running through various situations for damage control in his mind before he finally drifted off to slumber. When he straps on his wristwatch, he notices that the right side of his bed is empty – Furihata has gone off to prepare breakfast, Akashi presumes, judging by the scent of Catimor beans and sweet pastry that wafts through the broad space of their apartment.

The sun shines high in the daytime sky, rays of light streaming through tinted windowpanes and sneaking past the slits of embroidered auburn drapes. He tightens his tie around the collar of his shirt, all nimble fingers and clockwork precision working their way to near perfection. It takes him exactly six minutes to finish, so when the clock ticks to exactly six-oh-nine, Akashi is set and dressed and ready to seize the day.

 _Perfect,_ he can't help but think as his hands slither past his button-down's sleeves and make their way to the bottom-most drawer of the night table, tucking its contents safely into his left pocket. He takes a deep breath; smiles.

It's thirteen hours, twenty-six minutes, and two-point-eight-one-four seconds until what is undeniably the most important moment of Akashi Seijuuro's life (so far).

And he's right on schedule.

 **[13:26:02]**

"G-good morning, Sei-kun!" Furihata greets him as he slaves over the stove. From the doorway, Akashi glances at his apron-and-pajama-clad figure, mildly amused, before heading to the counter to grab his daily dose of coffee.

"Good morning to you as well, Kouki," Akashi replies calmly as he pours himself a cup. He takes his seat on the dining table. "Need I remind you to drop the honorifics? There is no need to address me so formally."

Furihata cracks a smile and waves it off. He joins him on the table, a platter of Danish tarts in hand. "Sorry, force of habit. Good morning, Sei."

Akashi nods, taking a bite of his pastry. Furihata watches him from across the table, gaze intent, and Akashi can't help but notice the shade of his eyes – dark and deep, a dizzying shade of the richest of coppers.

He never gets tired of them.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Akashi asks, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"A-ah, no! It's okay! I'm fine," the other boy replies hastily. "M-more importantly, how…how is it? Th-the t-t-taste, I mean—"

"Oh. It's delicious," Akashi replies before glancing at his watch: six-twenty-nine. "But I'm afraid I should head off for work now, lest I be late. Sorry," Akashi makes a gesture to bring the pastry along with him.

"Nevermind that one – I baked some more for you to bring to work!" Furihata rises from his seat and almost adamantly takes the half-eaten pastry away from the other man's grasp. "Here! Have a safe trip, Sei," he says instead as he hands him a paper bag.

"I'll see you in the evening?" he asks, tone tinged with nervous uncertainty, though there is a quiet upturn on the curves of his lips.

"Y-yes," Furihata returns his expression with a smile, just as nervous yet just as warm, "of course."

It's a simple gesture but it's also a very sweet one, and Akashi is tempted to just drop everything from his calculations and ask him right there and then, but _no,_ his mind warns him, he can't just waste away those hours of meticulous planning. He has yet to wait for the perfect moment. Yet to find the exact timing he's calculated and visualized and rehearsed in his mind for nearly a month now – thirteen hours, five minutes, and forty-three-point-seven seconds from the present moment, to be exact. So he bites his tongue and takes to Furihata's lips instead.

It isn't their first kiss, but it might as well be. It's their first kiss of the morning, and Akashi tastes of the bitterness of coffee and the sweetness of honeyed syrup, warm and wet against the other boy's mouth.

"See you soon, Sei."

 **[07:03:48]**

 _Thirty-seven million yen._

 _Fifty-six billion yen._

 _Forty-three billion yen._

 _Eighty-two billion yen._

Akashi sits at the head of the conference table, mismatched eyes half-lidded in a mix of ennui and passivity. His mind calculates assets and liabilities and net expenditures, taking into account the occasional rise and fall of commodity prices given the current rate of inflation – attempting to balance out their company's estimated cost of production with that of their projected income. He catches himself before he reveals a cunning smile, and sets off again with his computations - strategizing expansion prospects and recalibrating factors and reconsidering other methods of boosting sales to bolster their revenue. Across the room, his colleague Nijimura stands by the projector screen, muttering words along the lines of _partnerships_ and _profit_ and s _mall to medium enterprises_ , and his steady voice drones on almost monotonously that Akashi's mind can't help but drift to a sea of other things.

He has seven hours, three minutes, and forty-eight seconds until the moment, and it feels like eons.

With all due respect to Nijimura, it's not like his presentation skills were bad or anything. He isn't _terrible_ , but he isn't exactly amazing either; and while Akashi thinks that he could do better – granted, however, that Akashi thinks that he could do better than everyone almost 105% of the time – to be fair, he also thinks that maybe Kouki could do better too.

(He remembers the first time Furihata had asked him about the precepts of a business, three months before he started interning for Murasakibara's patisserie. _Do that again?_ the brunet had told him, and as Akashi went over the topic of debit and credit in double-entry bookkeeping for what seemed like the fifth time as they pored over _Accounting for Dummies_ without even a tired roll of his eyes for once – it's amazing what love can do to an impatient man, really – all he'd received was a shrug of shoulders as Furihata scratched his head coupled with a very timid _I don't get it_ and after the sixth round of reviewing, a very frustrated _Are you sure you're doing it right, Sei?_ to which he replied with a very prompt but certain _Yes, Kouki, I am._ )

(Okay, scratch that, maybe he shouldn't pour all his faith into Furihata's hands when it comes to conglomerate funds and trusts.)

"…isn't that right, Akashi-sama?" a voice says to him and snaps him out of his daze.

"Why…yes, of course," he answers coolly; taking a moment to gather his bearings. "I would be amenable to your proposal, Nijimura-kun. According to my calculations, this partnership will ensure us at least a fifteen percent increase in our annual revenue. Improving inter-corporate relationships is a valuable skill in the development and maintenance of a business. Isn't that right, Hayama-kun?"

"Yes Akashi-sama," the sales manager replies. "But Nijimura-san reported that the increase would just be by ten perce—"

"I am never wrong, Hayama-kun. My words are absolute. It will be fifteen percent if we invest in a partnership with a packaging company in order to decrease our marginal expenditures," he says with a calculating smile, painting the perfect portrait of a CEO – the ideal visage of efficiency and composure. "Do I make myself clear?"

He receives a nod from Hayama and a chorus of _yes sir_ in response.

"Thank you. You may continue with your presentation now, Nijimura-kun."

And so Nijimura does, going off tangent and taking the opportunity to talk about team-building and codes of proper co-worker interaction, which Akashi promptly ignores because 1) he's lost interest and 2) there's a constant buzzing from his smartphone and the vibrations it sends down his thigh makes him feel all ticklish and tingly. Akashi fishes the device out of his pocket and tucks it underneath the table ledge with a quick swipe of the lock screen and a discreet gaze. A skim over his notifications list and he clicks the second message when he sees Furihata's name on the top right.

 **From: Kouki**

 _We ran out of eggs + milk at hme. could u buy d supermrkt l8r? We hve a full house 2day so idk if I can mke it b4 it closes. Sry 2 bther u at work_ _(_ _〃＞_ ___ _;_ _〃_ _)_

 **To: Kouki**

 _Not a problem. I will be at the store by 5:30 pm. I will also buy the ingredients for tonight's dinner. Do not worry; it was not a bother at all. It is always a pleasure to hear from you._

 **From: Kouki**

 _Ok tysm sei! (´∀_ _*) dn't 4get 2 refrigr8 as soon as u get hme so they wnt spoil. Luv u 3_

 **To: Kouki**

 _Rest assured, I will not forget. Good luck today. Have a great day at the patisserie. I love you too._

 **From: Kouki**

 _Luv u more hihi_

 **To: Kouki**

 _No, I love you more. Have a safe day at work._

 **From: Kouki**

 _Luv u more thn u luv me. nd ok_

 **To: Kouki**

 _Impossible. I love you the most. Do try not to get burned by the baking trays from the oven, by the way._

 **From: Kouki**

 _No, I do! Hehe. ty i'll try. Gud luck w/ ur meetng! ~_ _ヾ_ _(_ _・_ _ω_ _・_ _)_

The hours seem to drag on as Nijimura continues his presentation, the redheaded heir can't help but think; his eyes darting across the room before settling on the mahogany table – dark brown with an antique finish, a stark contrast to the office's glass windows and cerulean walls. It was completely out of place because _who's brilliant idea was it to put Mibuchi in charge of interior décor, anyway?_ Akashi chides, before he catches himself and realizes that _oh right, it was him._ A friendly tap on the shoulder takes hold of his attention, and once more Akashi is jolted out of the train of his wayward thoughts as he puts his phone back into his pocket hastily.

"You seem to be in high spirits today, Akashi-kun," Kuroko says as he glides over to sit beside him. "Was that Furihata-kun you were texting? How is he?"

"Yes," he answers, clearing his throat. "He asked me to run some errands after our meeting, that was all. He's very busy with his new job. It seems Atsushi has been working him like a dog at the patisserie."

"Oh. Have you noticed anything new about him? Anything different, lately?"

 _His spelling is as atrocious as ever I mean have you seen his texts,_ his brain supplies although he bites his tongue at the remark.

"No…? Not really."

A shuffle of papers and Akashi takes the moment to glance at his wristwatch: _four hours and eighteen more minutes,_ it tells him. From his periphery, he sees Kuroko break away to scribble down a memo before resuming their conversation.

"Has he given you anything in particular?"

"Erm, some Danish tarts during breakfast. He told me to bring some with me as a snack."

"Oh. So he cooked breakfast for you today, I see…"

"Baked, you mean," Akashi corrects. "He made pastries."

"Ah, pardon my mistake then," Kuroko says, "did you notice anything about that?"

"They tasted delicious," he replies. "I assume his culinary abilities are improving? Why do you ask?"

"…Because we're friends and I want to know how he's doing?"

"Understandable," Akashi concurs before plastering on a tight-lipped smile. "However, I believe it would be a breach of conduct if we were to continue discussing personal matters in the middle of a meeting. Perhaps we should save this conversation for another time in the day, Tetsuya."

 **[04:18:00]**

("May I ask you another question? Kuroko whispers to him later on as Nijimura finishes his presentation and an intern rises to take his place at the platform. He nods and listens intently. "Tell me, Akashi-kun…are you more of a sapphire or diamond kind of person?"

Akashi ponders on it for a moment, before finally answering: "I preferred Omega Ruby best, to be quite honest," and he watches curiously as the blue-haired business analyst purses his lips and suppresses a sigh.

"Nevermind," Kuroko replies tiredly. "Thank you for your time.")

 **[02:11:56]**

Akashi buys flowers as he runs errands after work, two hours, six minutes, and four point three seconds later, from a flower shop two blocks away from the supermarket. The idea dawns upon him just as soon as he steps outside the store's automated doors. He purchases a bouquet for thirteen thousand yen – a friendly discount promised to him by Momoi. It's a cascade of white – crafted by an assortment of jonquils, sweet peas, ivy, and carnations – coupled with the bright, vivid red of camellias. A dazzling contrast of colours and sentiments.

It's always been a mystery to Akashi as to why the camellia was Furihata's favourite flower. Bold and brilliant; they stand for passion and refinement. In some cases, they are renowned for faithfulness and longevity; in others, for desire and excellence. Indeed, he admits, they are beautiful, but none of the symbols for which they stand hold true in Furihata's demeanour.

(He doesn't know that it's because camellias have always reminded Furihata of him.)

When Akashi thinks of Furihata, he compares the boy to something more like white magnolias – the seemingly frail flower a great bearer of perseverance, magnificence manifested in a humble kind of beauty. It is purity.

Perfection.

 **[01:07:09]**

One hour, seven minutes, and nine seconds until the moment arrives, and Akashi is at home – with chicken roasting in the oven and risotto simmering over a low heat – fifty-three minutes earlier than usual. The culinary universe to Akashi is a foreign one, what with cooking being Furihata's forte instead, and the kitchen area of his apartment is a territory that has always been unchartered, untamed. But Akashi Seijuuro is not a man who fights a losing battle, and he'd spent hours researching recipes and practicing them at Mibuchi's for the past two weeks that he's sure the instructions have been well ingrained into his muscle memory and mind's eye.

Plus, it wasn't so hard to figure out which pans were in which cabinet and which utensils were in which drawer – Akashi's watched Furihata's figure every morning over breakfast lovingly and long enough to be able to map out the coordinates and locations of every piece of culinary apparatus they had ever owned since they've moved in together. He's had it memorized since day twenty-one.

(And they're on day five hundred sixty-two now, in case you were wondering.)

 **[00:02:48]**

Two minutes and forty-eight seconds.

Two minutes and forty-eight seconds until the most important moment of Akashi Seijuuro's life and he's hovering by the foyer mirror, crimson eyes boring into his reflection, fresh new suit donned by his figure and trusty wristwatch ticking away until what he feels could either be his heart's greatest victory or ultimate demise.

But the flowers are in the vase, the dinner is set on the table, the reservations have been made for the ceremony in November, and Akashi has planned this out so carefully he's almost certain he cannot lose.

(And the eggs and milk are safely tucked in the refrigerator's shelves, as per Furihata's wishes.)

He fusses over his hair and combs it through for the umpteenth time that night, contemplating on whether to use gel or wax to amp up the style. But time is both an enemy and a friend, and when the ticking clocks remind him of the passage of another minute, he decides against styling it – foregoing the wax and the gel and focusing instead of rehearsing his lines.

A nervous cough. He clears his throat.

Three seconds.

"Know that when I say this I mean it with every letter of every syllable of every word. So that when I speak, you will know that I breathe the sentiments from within the surest of hearts and the utmost of certainties. So that when I utter to you a goodbye, you will know that I do not mean a _farewell_ but rather a _we'll-meet-again_. And so that when I tell you that I love you, you will know that it is nothing more nor nothing less than the truth. Because I assure you my beloved, I do," he says as he turns to face the doorway, three skips and a heartbeat until his end time. "I do love you, and I do so with all my heart.

"So would you do me the honour," his pulse races and a bead of sweat drips down his temple, "and grant me this chance to ask you—"

Two.

 _(There's the weight of promises in his pocket and in his hands he holds his heart and and and_ — _)_

"Furihata Kouki—"

 _(And he is ready for this. He is ready for this. He is ready for this. He is ready for this. He is_ —)

One.

"Will you—"

 **[00:00:01]**

" _Please marry me!"_

The door slams open and Furihata bursts in, unashamed. Akashi only looks at him, a blank expression in his interrupted gaze, before the moment passes and his laughter fills the silence.

(Because of course, _of course_ it had to happen this way. Of course Furihata, of all people, had the sheer audacity and gall and freakishly telepathic genius to propose to Akashi the same day and same moment Akashi had been planning to propose to him, in the most spontaneous and non-meticulously planned way ever possible.)

"What's with you?" he can't hold back. "That's not how you're supposed to do it. You don't…you don't _beg_ , you _ask_."

"Oh, right!" Furihata gulps as he stands, embarrassed but persistent, even adamant in his claim. The flush on his cheeks is as bright as camellias - _his favorite,_ Akashi remembers - ripened red, like a maiden yet to be kissed. "Then let me correct myself, please—"

"But I guess by now you ought to know better—"

"Will you," Furihata swallows hard and begins again; his voice wavers and trembles but still forages on, like the flurry of a newborn child and virgin artistes, of amateur singers lilting with the fragile cadence of their voices harmonious against the air, proud and hesitant and brave all at once, for the very first time in their lives. "Will you marry m—"

"Do not be foolish, Kouki," Akashi says as he takes him by the hand, fingers pressed against his lips. He slips a box out of his grasp, contents glinting under fluorescent bulbs - a band of gold glimmering beneath the light. "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

 **[00:00:00]**

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*For the benefit/comprehension of non-gamers: Omega Ruby is an edition of the Pokemon games for the 3DS (it's a remake of the third gen Ruby version whereas Alpha Sapphire is a remake of the Sapphire game version).

**ty ha-chan for the camellia headcanon hehe

***praise kami-sama for furihata's terrible text-spelling skills HAHAHA

 **thank you so much for reading; i hope you all have a wonderful day :)**


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